Location: Former Municipal Library, three blocks from the Bank
Designation (internal): The Orchard House
Public Name (old signage, still intact): Redhaven Central Library
“It smells like paper, bread, and gun oil. In that order.”
From the outside, the building looks untouched.
The glass is intact.
The steps are swept.
The old banner reading SUMMER READING PROGRAM – 2022 still hangs crooked above the doors.
People pass it and think:
Safe.
Empty.
Irrelevant.
They are wrong.
Julius chose the library deliberately.
Because libraries are built to:
store
protect
preserve
and stay quiet
It is not fortified in an obvious way.
It is maintained.
That is more unsettling.
Inside, it feels… civilized.
Lights are on in most sections.
Real lights. Not candles. Not flashlights.
The air is clean. Warm.
There is music sometimes. Low. Old jazz. Classical. Vinyl.
There are rugs.
Plants.
Actual framed art on the walls.
It does not feel like a base.
It feels like a place where people still believe the world might be worth fixing.
That is intentional.
Julius does not want his people to live like animals.
He wants them calm.
The reading floors have been converted into open living areas.
Old study tables now serve as communal dining tables
Bookshelves act as natural dividers between sleeping sections
The children’s reading pit is now a lounge with couches and blankets
The reference desk is a check-in point, still labeled INFORMATION
No bunks.
No cages.
No concrete cells.
Everyone has:
a real mattress
clean sheets
personal storage
privacy screens
Julius paid attention to that.
Because people who feel human behave better.
The original library café has been expanded violently and professionally.
A wall was removed.
A vent system was installed.
Industrial kitchen equipment was brought in piece by piece.
Not scavenged junk.
Stolen.
Relocated.
Installed.
The result is a full, functional kitchen that would make pre‑outbreak restaurants jealous.
No ration lines.
No hierarchy plates.
No punishment meals.
People eat what they want.
Always.
High-quality beef, lamb, venison, bison
Poultry, fish, preserved seafood
Fresh vegetables (greenhouse-supported)
Tofu in bulk
Hummus in absurd quantity
Flatbreads, naan, pita, sourdough
Spices, oils, vinegars, imported salts
Chocolate. Real chocolate.
Julius eats simply:
tofu
hummus
greens
rice
tea
He does not restrict anyone else.
That is important.
It creates loyalty without force.
They are not prisoners.
They are not slaves.
They are protected.
Julius offered them:
Safety. Food. Warmth. Continuity.
In exchange, they:
cook
clean
repair clothing
keep the place human
They are called:
The House Staff
Not servants.
Not workers.
Staff.
They live in a dedicated wing with:
private rooms
locks they control
real doors
real beds
They are never armed.
They are never threatened.
They are never touched.
Any Rose who disrespects them is removed.
No exceptions.
This is known.
The old archive rooms beneath the library now serve as:
cold storage
dry goods storage
medical storage
water reserve
They are clean.
Organized.
Labeled.
Everything is cataloged.
Not for control.
For continuity.
Julius does not like chaos.
He finds it inefficient.
People who stumble into the Orchard House expecting:
cages
chains
brutality
…are disarmed by:
warm bread
clean floors
polite voices
real plates
Some of them cry.
Some of them don’t trust it.
Some of them leave.
They are allowed to.
That is the most terrifying part.
There is one rule posted near the entrance.
Not carved.
Not painted.
Typed. Laminated. Straight.
THIS IS A QUIET PLACE.
That’s it.
Everyone understands what it means.
Julius does not sleep here.
He visits.
When he does:
the staff prepares tea
someone bakes bread
the Roses straighten the shelves without being told
He never asks.
They do it anyway.
He walks the aisles sometimes.
Runs his fingers along the spines.
Doesn’t always take a book.
He just… checks that they’re still there.
A bank for weapons.
A library for people.
That is not accidental.
It tells you everything about Julius.
He does not see himself as a warlord.
He sees himself as a curator.
Of tools.
Of people.
Of outcomes.
The Black Orchard is not a gang.
It is a collection.
And the Roses are not soldiers.
They are kept.
People say:
“There’s a library where nobody gets hungry.”
“There’s a place where the lights still work.”
“There’s a building where nothing bad happens.”
“There’s a man who makes sure of it.”
And sometimes:
“If you’re inside, you’re safe.”
“If you’re outside… don’t make him notice you.”
This setup makes Julius infinitely more unsettling.
Because he is not brutal.
He is considerate.
And men like that are never accidental.